Folded Corners

A shared book

some corners folded

marked as if to say

“Look what I found!

What I’ve been meaning to say”

 

Now those folds on paper

like ghosts still dancing on the covers

She is gone, I had forgotten

the folds had remained

 

And years later

when I was chosen by the book

I touched the folds knowing

they were last touched by her hands before me

 

A book is a message from across eons

a shared book is a layer deeper

speaking unsaid words between us

telling me what I could not understand then

 

I turn over the last pages

no folded corners there

Somewhere in the middle or towards the end

the folds shall stop

I won’t know what will be the last page

where I’ll find her last thought

Patiently folded waiting for me

I won’t know when I will pass it by

 

I won’t know when I will say goodbye

once more, one last time

 

I won’t know how many times

I’ll have to say the last goodbye again

 

It must be said

Banjaran hated tarnishing words with folds

But that book she chose to crinkle

to say her unsaid words to me

 

The book takes me through many stories

reminds me of others I’ve spent with beautiful people

I don’t know if the dancing ghosts delight or fright me

I just know that they are there

 

At some point my hand goes to the corner of the page

as if knowing it’ll find her touch there

as if knowing that she was here once, and was touched

as my fingers look to touch her again

 

I look astonished, to find a fold there

waiting for me, as expected

As if reprimanding me from years ago

“I’ve been here, all this time”

 

And alas! she is found

again waiting for me on that page

And across the years we find each other again

Among folded corners, and unspoken words

 

Vishal Gupta

December 18^th, 2023

On Tawang

On Mountains

Mountains are difficult to traverse through, no matter if it’s a trek or not. Each time I go, I decide not to come back soon. And yet every 6 months, I find myself amidst the same slithering roads surrounded by a treacherous ridge on one side, and a deep valley on the other. A river is always heard in the distance and waterfalls will obviously mark their way along the mighty mountains. The hills are covered with age-old trees holding the mountain soil together. Trees that never seem to wither. As immortal as the grand hills they make their base on. It is a blessing to be born in a country with lust green mountains that satiate the soul.

 

On the Moon

The Moon always seems a lot more closer from the mountains and the stars brighter. I was lucky enough to have gone during a full-moon week. The Moon has had important significance in the culture of man since the beginning of civilization. Actually much before that. The Moon might have been the first question. It’s so old that we don’t even know when we realized that it as a celestial body that dances around the Sun with us and we play in its shadow and it plays in ours. The form-changing Moon would have been the first God. The first calendar. The first unit of time. Every time I think this is too much, and I don’t want to come back soon. And every time I come back a little fuller, a little more richer, and a little in love.

 

On Goodbyes

What do you do in the moments of separation? Of saying goodbye? There’s no right way. “Awkward hug or lame cool guy handshake?” There’s no right way. It’s often one of the above or all of it or none of it. So much that people sometimes choose to disappear without saying goodbye. They don’t want to deal with the moment. But “Life of Pi” taught us that “in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.” Goodbyes are important. That moment of incompleteness is important. That moment doesn’t mean much. It’s redundant compared to all the other moments that came before. But that’s exactly what makes that redundancy beautiful! That anticipation of not knowing if and when you’d ever see each other again. Seperation makes even redundancy worthwhile. As Vision said, “a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts.”

 

But what do you do in that moment? When you’re overwrought with emotion? Do you speak words? But there are no words that could encapsulate all the memories that came before. It would be reductive. Do you share a song or a poem or a quote that you remember that encapsulates the moment as well as it can? But would you rather risk sharing art in a tender moment, when the other person might not be ready for it? What good are words when you need shoulders? After all, art may be public; but the perception and appreciation of art is extremely personal. It would be unfair to expect someone to give it the same importance as you do. Specially in the moment.

 

So what do you do? HIMYM offers the answer. To stop the image of someone walking away, you close your eyes, count, and open your eyes to a world where you can’t find them anymore. Or here’s another way – you sit and look into their eyes for as long as possible. Savor the moment. Hold them. Hug them. And when the time calls for it, walk away. That is right. That is honest. That is good.

 

On Memories

You know it’s not really the people that we miss. People change. We miss the moment. People wake up one day and we think this isn’t the same person anymore. It has happened before. Someone we have learnt to love and forget. We can have someone right before our very eyes and miss them. We don’t miss people. We miss moments. People are the one who might’ve made the moment beautiful. But there’s no certainty that we can find the same moment with the same people again. There’s possibility, but no certainty. And when you take out possibility from certainty, what you are left with is disappointment. Some people don’t want to risk disappointment. So they don’t risk missing anyone at all. These are ones who have been disappointed enough times by life. They are also the ones who never find anything worth holding on to. Because what is love if not to be vulnerable. And what is life without love?

Reunion

‘What is love?’ the discourse furthered

in a sea of faces, both strangers and friends

and friends who once were strangers

and strangers who once were more than friends

 

He smiled and professed the crowd,

refraining to speak truths he knew few could fathom

but the message needed to be sent

unspoken words had tortured him for too long

and so he spoke

 

‘Love cannot be encapsulated in a single definition

be it yours or mine,

It takes as many forms as there are waves in the ocean

and as many words as there are echoes in the mountains

 

It is the eternal desire, when you pine for someone with such passion

that their mere presence fills you up like an overflowing river

The sight of their eyes twinkles brighter than all the stars in the sky

And all you want to do is hold her close and let her know

that your embrace is the only home she would ever need

You wish to spoil her so no one will ever be good enough again

you want to destroy yourself and everything you possess in her service

Gratify her every desire to the point where she takes you for granted

devote your existence to her every thought

Suffocate her with your love that she can’t help

but to wish you away

While you rue yourself for trying too hard

for wanting too much

hoping she would understand what she means to you

hoping she would appreciate your devotion for her

Crying along on starlit nights sitting in her backyard

burying the remnants of your love for her

Knowing that the ghosts of your own making will haunt you

to eternity and beyond

 

Then there’s the other kind of love

one that doesn’t speak much

and stays silent for days, weeks, months… generations

it emerges only when becalled

and for a fleeting moment it shows its grandeur

and then succumbs back into oblivion

waiting, to be bid again

It’s not lazy, this love

it just doesn’t like the noise

it prefers to watch from afar

It would like to be appreciated

but doesn’t mind if it isn’t

It prides on simply being

Watching, waiting, being

Like an overarching shadow of the sky

like a slight breeze of summertime

Like light seeping through the creaks of darkness

like rain waiting in the folds of clouds

Just because it doesn’t make its presence felt

doesn’t mean it isn’t there

Just because it was lost

doesn’t mean it can’t be found again’

 

He gleaned at the silent crowd

this time, his eyes finding another’s

Ones that had understood him so well then

ones that understood him so well now

 

With wet eyes, she dare not shed any

for she had gone far too far

and all that remained was a look between

all words said and unsaid shared

for they knew this was all they would ever share

now and forever

 

Vishal Gupta

February 20^th, 2023

Naked Justice

I stand naked before the altars of justice, stripped to my very soul,

In the cold embrace of delays, the system's cruel toll

Justice, a distant dream, an elusive prize,

As court cases languish, trapped in an endless guise

 

Was it the wise or the fool who said,

"Justice delayed is justice denied"

The scales of justice, broken and tarnished,

And a blindbold reeks, as faith is admonished

 

Orders given, but always appealed,

A vicious cycle, justice concealed

Higher courts, a never-ending ascent,

While the petitioner's hope is relentlessly spent

 

The lawyers, the victors, their pockets grow,

While justice falters, it former self’s shadow

The system's flaws, laid bare and exposed,

As citizens suffer, their hopes decomposed

 

A civilization built on the rule of law,

But justice denied, a painful flaw

The judiciary, once a guardian strong,

Now a beacon of despair, its torch gone wrong

 

Taxes paid, for a fair and just land,

Yet the justice system, a broken hand

The rich thrive, their power secured,

While the rest struggle, their hopes obscured

 

Laws, a farce, a shield for the elite,

Leaving the commoners in defeat

Access denied, justice out of reach,

As the flames of frustration begin to breach

 

With torch in hand, she once stood tall,

A symbol of fairness, revered by all

But now she's lost, her light obscured,

As the system fails, her soul's been blurred

 

She weeps for the lost souls seeking redress,

In the labyrinth of courts, a distressing mess

The wheels of justice grind to a halt,

While the powerful thrive and the weak exalt

 

The courts, engulfed in flames of rage,

A system corrupted, a broken stage

In the ruins of justice, we stand alone,

Longing for a day when fairness will be known

 

Vishal Gupta

04^th August, 2023

Dance with me

Dance with me

as the world plays symphonies

of time and distance and love and longing

hold me close to you

do not let me go

let me melt in this embrace of yours

when nothing else matters

but knowing that I am yours and you are mine

and in a moment that is honest

let me feel your breaths coming closer to mine

till there’s no you or me anymore

 

Dance with me

as I look into your eyes

as I draw you close to me

hold you, touch you, feel your presence

let me preen your eyes for the fire I’ve searched so long

let me hear your voice for thoughts long lost

allow me to seduce your soul

failing which, let me steal your dreams

failing that, let me be the obsession of your thoughts

failing that, let me be your pillar of support

and failing even that, let me have known a moment

when I knew your hand was once in mine

 

Dance with me

in the rain, among the meadows

by the river or under the lake

but ignore the beauties nature bestows

unless a crackle of thunder draws you close to me

ignore it all, and only feel my presence

as I have lost the concept of the world

finding my whole world right before me

And if all my moments were to make me choose

I’d not skip a beat before picking the one

where I found your head in my lap

and found my lips on your forehead

and my fingers intertwined with yours

a light breeze across my face

and my heart ready to jump out of my chest

barely able to restrain myself

from declaring to the sky that it has bestowed upon me

a truly wonderful moment for once, a moment

that I shall always remain indebted for

just enjoying the privilege of sharing one honest moment with you

where you were you, and I was I

and the universe simply refused to matter

Tu me manques

At the end of each day

when the void starts to set in

tu me manques

 

In the dead of the night

amongst the sound of hollow silence

tu me manques

 

When my heart takes hold of my soul

and obstructs every step I take

tu me manques

 

When every step and every breath

gets heavier and heavier as the clock keeps turning

tu me manques

 

When the Sun swelters bright

and suddenly takes goes away bringing a cold nothingness

tu me manques

 

When sounds abound

but meaning leaves the soul

tu me manques

 

When life takes me through the dark tunnels

unable to see the light on the other side

tu me manques

 

Tu me manques

tu me manques

tu… me manques

 

Vishal Gupta

April 21^st, 2022

Monsoon Again

Continued from Monsoon

 

Monsoon Again

 

We sat in the scorching sun for long

For long did we allow the blaze and embers

to glean through our skin and flesh

burning with the rage of the sky

Punishing us for sins of the past

With vengeance, the light did shine

and with vengeance it melted all

Wisdom, patience, sanity, hope

 

And wait did we in indoor chasms of our own making

Hidden from the world, hoping for relief

Unable, to look our tormentor into the eye

Begging, for mercy, expanding, our plight

For we are not the ones in the wrong

But it’s the crimes of the past that loom on

And so breaking sweat we prayed

To the sky to offer respite

 

And for long did we wait, till suddenly

The river seemed to call to us one day

And as we headed towards, the Gods gave a mighty call

As we sat along, roaring thunder was about

As we showed faith, it was rewarded with rain

Sitting by the river one fateful day

With the ground trembling and sky roaring

the first drops from the sky fell like a song from the sky

 

And what music it was! What delight!

As wait and faith took form of droplets

returned with the grace of the overlords

Perhaps it was a test of faith

perhaps a present for our endeavors

or, perhaps just a lesson divine

that the only way to appreciate your gifts

is to yearn for them a while

 

I know the rain can take form of a flood

As devastating as summer, perhaps more

But perhaps that’s the lesson hidden

Seasons will come and seasons will go

and the present is the only present we have

So cherish it well, till it becomes your tormentor

to be relieved by another, and yet another

As the cycle continues, the gift is the pain

It’s all the same

It’s all the same

 

Vishal Gupta

April 27^th, 2023

Underwater

Ebbs and currents flow underneath the horizon

and take me along,

Ebbs and currents, hot and cold

and with the drift I flow

 

I’d heard that only dead fish swim with the flow

and I struggled to find my own path

till I realized that not only dead fish swim with the flow

but once a while, even great big whales do

 

There is no glory in being the forever rebel

no greatness in motivation that burns the soul

for each dead body marking the paths to great peaks

was once a greatly motivated soul

 

Yet, the currents suffocate, and I cannot breathe

not that I can help it, for I am unable to swim away

but the heart craves for someone to share these breaths with

to share the weight that I feel in my heart

 

And there was no great storm in the sky

and no godly voice that prevailed

simply a scarred hand reached in

and said, ‘hey, how’s the water?’

 

I found a face, both beautiful and bright

it said it had battles of its own, and would understand mine

It would not fight beside me, my wars would stay my own

It’d simply provide a place to come back to, somewhere to call “home”

 

She said, ‘where’d you wanna go? how much you wanna risk?

I’m not looking for somebody with some superhero gifts

Some superhero, some fairytale bliss

Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss.’

 

I said, ‘I want something just like this’

And the music flowed on its own

‘I want something just like this’

And the lights begun to glow

 

Like watching a metropolis from above, of golden snakes and silver clouds

from the darkness of my window, all outside seems so bright

but the captain soon turns on the light, and the lights outside grow dim

for once you find the light within, you don’t need the ones outside

 

She faces death each day, and knows both reality and brutality

Her heart holds all the aches she hears, and she looks for home to let them out

She knows life isn’t a chick flicks and charming men sweeping her off her feet

and she knows she cannot elope, beyond what she already has

 

All she wants is a hug amidst snow, and someone to accompany her to the mountains

all she wants is to travel to fulfill her heart’s desire

all she wants is to love, and be loved

all she wants is to be stimulated, not only with her body but to the core of her soul

 

She drapes herself plainly, and expresses her colorful soul

she charms with her elegance, and holds grace in her words

She tries to stay grounded, despite all her endeavors flying

she expects more from life, and isn’t afraid to throw a tantrum dissatisfied

 

She may not be a keeper,

not that it matters to either

sometimes you want someone to test the current

before you take them to the other side

 

She’s not faithfully mine, but I’m afraid of losing her again

She has made no commitments, but I already feel her completely mine

I have not touched her lips, but my words have touched her eyes

I may not have held her scent, but I’ve felt her heart beat wild

 

Her madness, her wildness, her passion, her vigor

leaves me short of words

this crucial point comes in every story when the next step defines the future

and I’m thankful to her, that she took my hand, and made the leap

 

They say there’re two kinds of women in the world

one that wants to make you a better man

another that makes you want to be a better man

Once I was flowing with ebbs and currents underneath the horizon

and then the Gods decided that I’d had enough

a scarred hand simply reached in,

and said, ‘hey! how’s the water?’

 

Vishal Gupta

July 13^th, 2022

Last Hug

“I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.” - Pi, Life of Pi

Last Hug

They say that in your last moments, your entire life flashes in front of your eyes

I believe that relationships might have a similar predicament

After all, a relationship has a life of its own

And like a human life, it is conceived, takes birth, and dies out with time

 

Relationships take time and care in infancy,

and cared for well enough, grow up strong with legs of their own

They support others finding their way, and evolve everyone around them

they also die from age, sickness, loneliness, and ideas spreading like the plague

 

And that’s what happened that fateful afternoon

when I knew it would be the last time we were seeing one another

Well, “last” isn’t really the correct term, as who knows what life might bring

But the next time, we would merely glance, nod, and move forward

 

We wouldn’t sit together and share thoughts both dull and deep

We wouldn’t hold hands and know the world would find its peace

We wouldn’t find solace in the embrace of a lover

We wouldn’t be honest as we once were to each other

 

So I looked upon her, as we stood there, not knowing if it was okay to walk away

but both knowing that it was the eventual fate of that day

Both not knowing how long it the inevitable would take

both fearing if we could somehow rectify this mistake

 

Sitting there looking at her remembering, how time had revealed each to the other

Like an onion, sometimes it stunk and sometimes it make them cry

But as we discovered more off each other, we discovered unfound layers beneath layers

And soon life would never be the same without my smelly stinky onion ever again

 

As she turned to walk away, I for once let go of inhibition

and charged towards her with the madness only loss knows of

I draped her in what I would remember for years later as the final embrace

Surprising her and captivating her at the same time, behind her hands holding me as well

 

It reminded of the first time I remembered her calling out my name

And the first time I held her hand

T’was the same night of the first kiss

And a memory of so many firsts, all rushing at once

 

Surprised was she at the charge and hug

for him keepings emotions numb was why she had to walk away in the first place

If only he would have done this before, so many times before

But both knew he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, that’s just not who he was

 

She remembered the times when she was in need of kind words

and his brought wisdom but no relief

And when times were tough and she needed a hand on her back

his would only stand beside her, in thwarting all attacks

 

Life would be long, and they would move on, and the last hug would stay with him

Comforting him in times of peril, torturing him on cold lonely nights

And time and again life would make him question, was it truly the last

Till time would eventually painfully give the answer, yes it was.

 

Vishal Gupta

20^th March, 2022

GMBA

Something from long ago. When the Sun first started to set on a bright world, and winter began.

GMBA Speech

Peers, Classmates, XLers, lend me your short attention spans;

I come to pass gyaan, not to gather it,

The gyaan that seniors give, lives after them;

The work is oft interred with their jobs;

So let it be with you. The noble CRISP

Hath told you to make a giant CV:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath you answer’d it.

Here, under the leave of Jittu and the rest—

For Jittu is an honorable man;

So are they all, all honorable men—

Come I to cry in my funeral.

XL was my school, harsh and vague to me:

But Jittu says it will be alright;

And Jittu is an honorable man.

He had brought many students in to XL

Whose loans did your CBI account fill:

Did in this Jittu seem ambitious?

When the the batch have cried, Jittu hath ignored:

“Alright” should be made of transparent stuff:

Yet Jittu says we’ll get placed;

And Jittu is an honorable man.

You all did see that on the brochure

We thrice asked him about the placements,

Which he did thrice ignore: Was this honor?

Yet Jittu says we need not worry;

And, sure, he is an honorable man.

I speak not to disprove what Jittu spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did never know him, not without cause:

What concerns you now, to withhold us?

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;

My heart is in the coffin there with this course,

And I must pause till it come back to me.

 

But yesterday the word of Abraham might

Have stood against you at JLT; now lies it there.

And none so brave to do him reverence.

O masters, if I were disposed to stir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,

I should do Jittu wrong, and Mishra wrong,

I will not do them wrong; I rather choose

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,

But here’s a mail from the ID of Jittu;

I found it in mine, ‘tis his promise—

And they would go and kiss his ass

Yea, beg a toenail of him for memory,

And, dying, mention it within their wills,

Bequeathing it as a matter of joke

Unto their leisure.

 

Have patience, gentle XLers, I must not read it;

It is not meet you know how XL fooled us.

You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;

And, being men, bearing the promise of XL,

It will inflame you, it will make you mad:

‘Tis good you know not that you are his trueborns;

For, if you should, O, what would come of it!

 

Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile?

I have o’ershot myself to tell you of it:

I fear I wrong the honorable men

Whose daggers have stabb’d us; I do fear it.

 

You will compel me, then, to read the mail?

Then make a ring about the corpse of GMBA,

And let me show you those that made the batch.

Shall I type? and will you give me leave?

 

If you have CVs, prepare to tear them now.

You all do know this JLT: I remember

The frst time ever we came on;

‘Twas on a winter’s evening, in Shere Punjabaxi,

That day we overcame the borders:

Look, in this inbox came Jittu’s mail through:

See what a rent the envious Mess made:

Through this the well-beloved Abraham stabb’d;

And as he pluck’d his cursed words away,

Mark how the hopes of us follow’d it,

As rushing out of doors, to be resolved

If Jittu so unkindly knock’d, or no;

For Jittu, as you know, was our angel:

Judge, O you BM/HRs, how dearly Jittu fooled us!

This was the most unkindest cut of all;

For when our noble PlaceCom saw him stab,

Ingratitude, more strong than Your powers,

Quite vanquish’d him: then burst our faint hopes;

And, in his office muffling up his face,

Even at the base of the Admin building,

Which all the while remained silent, great GMBA fell.

O, what a fall was there, my XLers!

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,

Whilst bloody treason flourish’d over us.

O, now you laugh; and, I perceive, you feel

The dint of pity: these are gracious laughs.

Hearless souls, what, laugh you when you but behold

Our loans invested wounded? Look you here,

Here we are ourselves, marr’d, as you see, with traitors.

 

Good BMs, sweet HRs, let me not stir you up

To such a sudden flood of thought.

They that have done this deed are honorable:

What private motives they have, alas, I know not,

That made them do it: they are wise and honorable,

And will, no doubt, without reasons stay mum.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:

I am no poet, as Dadlani is;

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,

That love my career; and that they know full well

That gave me public leave to write and post:

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,

Action, nor utterance, nor the power of pen,

To stir men’s blood: I only write right on;

I tell you that which you yourselves do know;

Show you sweet GMBAs’ wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,

And bid them speak for me: but were I Jittu,

And Jittu Gupta, there were a Gupta

Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue

In every wound of GMBA that should breathe

The stones of XL to rise and mutiny.

 

Why, friends, you go do you know not what:

Wherein hath we this deserved your loves?

Alas, you know not: I must tell you then:

You have forgot the will I told you of.

 

Moreover, XL hath left us in foreign walks,

Different teachers and new buildings,

On this side of campus; it hath left us,

And to our heirs for ever, common trifles,

To plead to you, and be isolated.

Here was a XL! when comes that realization?

 

Vishal Gupta

6 Oct 2014

We the People

We the People

People like us… the elite

The niche

The aware

Those who think

and speak sophisticated vernaculars

Us

 

We the People

Whose problems lie higher on Maslow’s hierarchy

Who look down upon those… peasants

 

We. Whose problems are not financial

We the depressed and depraved

Lonely, awkward, hopeless, and afraid

who shove away those who come to our aid

Who seek comfort on avarice of screens and gluttony

but avarice only bring more avarice

 

We the people

No. We’re not the people

We’re more than the people

We’re the pepeopleple

 

We who live in cities that touch the sky

and watch movies in languages not our own

for whom bad movies are just “time pass”

 

Deck the halls with boughs of holly… for us

‘Tis the season to be JOLLY… for us

Are we too boastful? Are we the mad ones?

 

Vishal Gupta

16^th July, 2022